Gang of Thrones
by SemiFeralCatLady
Summary: What starts out as a simple out of court settlement against the owners of Paddy's Pub, results in a changing of hands of the bar, and throws the lives of all of its former owners into chaos. After backroom deals are made, and some delusional ideations are factored in, the feud between the Reynolds and McPoyles evolves into an adventure of epic proportions.
1. The Gang Loses Paddy's

Chapter 1: The Gang Loses Paddy's

Chapter Text

Tuesday,  
10:45 A.M.  
"So Frank, you're saying you're saying you're incontinent?" Dennis squinted at the bald, fat little man who raised him. He had known for years that his father was falling into decrepitude but wasn't prepared for this kind of disgusting bombshell. Frank let out a sigh. He wagged one of his short, greasy fingers in Dennis's direction.

"Nuh, uh! I ain't incontinent! I can hold my piss!" Frank corrected.  
"Well, then why have you decided to have Charlie start buying you Depends?" Dennis insisted. At this point, his sister Deandra had begun to follow the conversation and was intently looking for an answer from Frank. Frank took notice but refused to acknowledge her silent participation.

"I sent Charlie to grab me some Depends, so I don't gotta' slow down in my drinking!" Frank informed Dennis.  
"Frank, if you're voluntarily wearing diapers, maybe it is time to slow down!" Dee chimed in from in back of the bar.  
"Shut up, bird! No one's talkin' to you!" Frank scolded his daughter. She really was insufferable. Frank was not going to have any of her bull shit.

"Yeah, Dee. You aren't in this conversation. Go, clean the tables or something. Do your goddamned job!" Dennis added. At that, he turned his attention back to Frank.  
Dee silently seethed with bottled rage and resentment towards the man who she had once called father, and that self-absorbed prick of a twin brother. Goddamn her fate, being stuck with these two all her life.

"So anyways, I wear these so I don't have to stop drinkin'. Stop to take a piss. Take a shit. I just do it in my Depends!" Frank responded in a matter of fact tone. Neither one of his children could believe what they were hearing.

"Yes, but, then you are sitting in your own filth!" Dennis bellowed in disgust.  
"So?" Frank completely dismissed the argument without effort or analysis. Dee and Dennis shared a look across the bar. An understanding look of mutual repulsion towards Frank. Suddenly, the door of the bar burst open. Charlie ran through, looking worried and anxious. He turned to his friends, and waved his arms frantically, in a familiar panicked Charlie way.

"You guys, you guys. This is bad! You know that one lawyer? The one who hates us?" Charlie yelped. Dennis, Frank, and Dee looked at each other, then back at Charlie, and collectively shrugged their shoulders.

"No idea!" Dennis blurted, "But how long were you going to keep the fact that you're buying diapers for Frank a secret?"

"I've known that bitch was incontinent for months now!" Dee rang in, raising a snicker from her brother. Frank sneered at the two of them.

"I ain't incontinent!" Frank snarled. His indignant protest was abruptly interrupted by Charlie's frantic squeals.

"You guys! Forget about whatever's going on with Frank! It doesn't matter! We're about to lose the bar!" Charlie shouted. The group suddenly stopped what they were doing and focused on Charlie.

"Charlie, you didn't enter our bar as a prize in another dance competition, did you?" Dennis scolded.

"God, no! Charlie!?" Dee pleaded. The scruffy little man shook his head furiously.

"Naw dude! It's much worse than that! This time we're completely screwed!"  
A familiar man wearing a grey suit entered the door suddenly, a leather briefcase in hand. His hair, short and immaculately combed. An eye patch on his left eye, a new feature. Charlie remembered that epic courtroom battle. Apparently, so did he. He laid his briefcase on an open table. The blonde woman suddenly jumped up.

"Oh wait! Don't sit down!" Dee shouted toward the lawyer. The lawyer stopped and watched Dee as she began to search the seats in the bar. She peeked over her shoulder. Trying to be indiscreet, she loudly whispered behind her.  
"Charlie, where'd we put the tack stool?"  
"Dude! Dee! Do not give him the tack stool!" Charlie angrily responded.  
"Come on! It'll be funny!" Dee retorted. The lawyer, having witnessed all of this, casually had a seat, snickering to himself.  
"Oh, Reynolds family! You will never stop making it an intensely satisfying experience to give you bad news. And today really isn't your day!" The room snarled at him.

"What do ya' want, Jew lawyer?" Frank snarled. The lawyer shook his head and sighed.  
"Still using racial epithets, I see, Frank! Horrible never changes."  
"Yeah, yeah, get off my balls!" Frank pressed.  
"Heyo!" Mac finally entered the room from the office. He looked in curiously as he noticed everyone focusing on the lawyer, and whatever was in his briefcase. "Woah, woah! What did I miss?"  
"Why you've come in just in time, Mr. McDonald! I'm issuing the five of you a notice to vacate the premises!"  
"On what grounds?" Frank interjected.  
"On the grounds of an out of court settlement for reparation of damages to two clients, Liam and Ryan McPoyle." The lawyer smiled. All members of the gang began to feel panic well up, aside from Frank, who was furious.  
"How 'da hell did you get past me? And didn't they throw your case out?" Frank argued.  
"Ah yes! The McPoyle wedding case. The one where I lost my eye! I didn't forget that." The lawyer glared at Charlie.  
"You know, now you just look straight up like a bad guy from one of those Japanese lawyer games." Charlie impulsively exclaimed. The rest of the gang snickered, whispering among themselves. The lawyer rolled his one working eye.

"Oh Reynolds and associates! How I've longed to deliver you a finishing blow, and today, I think I have. The McPoyle's were awarded the property of Paddy's Pub for damages done in an apartment fire. Smaller shares were awarded to one Matthew Mara, and one, Gail, last name omitted. But main shares were awarded to Liam and Ryan Mcpoyle, as part of a much larger multi-case settlement against you."  
"Why would you ever want to take that case, dude?" Charlie exclaimed.  
"It's easy. It was an open and shut case, and it gave me an opportunity to finally bring my worst enemies to ruin. My god, you people have me talking like a villain in a tv show. You really do ruin people's lives. Anyway, I knew that you wouldn't leave of your own volition, so I arranged for a police escort."

The door flung open once again, with four large police officers proceeding. One in the middle stepped forward and spoke authoritatively.  
"Will Frank Reynolds, Dennis Reynolds, Deandra Reynolds, Ronald "Mac" McDonald, and Charlie Kelley please step forward?"  
Without hesitation, the entire gang leaped to their feet and placed their hands over their heads.  
"Accept our escort peacefully, and we will not be required to use force."  
Frank glowered at the lawyer as he walked towards the exit of the pub.  
"You no good, piece o' shit, shyster lawyer! You're gonna' regret this!"

Frank lunged towards the lawyer in a fit of rage, ignoring everything else. With that, the officer closest to Frank constrained him, giving him a spray of mace to his eyes. The rest of the gang hurried passed Frank, who was currently being kicked by the officer that sprayed him. As they were walking out of their bar for what might be the last time, they watched as the sign from above the door was roughly handled by a course, gangly man. Another, a similar looking shady figure stood at the top of the ladder, affixing a new sign to the marquee area. McPoyle's Milk Bar. The balance had really been thrown off this day. South Philadelphia would never be the same.

At the bar, a police officer continued to beat on Frank, as the lawyer watched, satisfied from one of the bar tables. Liam and Ryan McPoyle enter the bar, followed by their sister Margaret. Frank reached out his hand towards the new owner of the bar.

"Liam, it's me! Frank! We can make a deal!" Frank graveled beneath layers of tear gas and asthma brought on by beatings from the officer. The sandy blonde proprietor of the bar looked down upon the bloodied, puffy-faced little bald man, hyperventilating and grasping at his pant leg. He could easily dismiss him and have him arrested. But was there something he wanted from Frank… perhaps. Liam snapped his fingers at the officer and pointed his finger at Frank Reynold's portly little frame.

"This one stays, officer. By request of the new owner." Liam exclaimed. The officer took a moment to pause and look at the strange man making a request. He noticed the lawyer from the corner of his eye, motioning towards the bar's owner to abort whatever plan he was brewing. Clearly, he thought it wasn't worth it. The officer looked at Liam one more time, just to determine if he was being serious or not. Reluctantly, he accepted this as a legitimate request.

"Alright!" the officer shouted, reaching down to punch Frank Reynolds' face. "But I'm going to finish beating the shit out of him first!"  
"You're too late, officer. I shit myself the second that you maced me!" Frank declared. The officer scrunched his nose and backed off. Liam, the demented leader of his family motioned his shoulders, signaling to his siblings. They snapped to attention and moved towards Frank immediately.

"Ryan! Margaret! Get Franklin cleaned off and then bring him to my office."  
The two McPoyles seized Frank underneath each arm and began to drag him away towards the bathroom. The lawyer flagged Liam down. He had only taken this miscreant's case to exact revenge on his enemies and knew him to be a truly unsavory character. But one thing that he certainly wanted him to avoid was doing any business with Frank Reynolds. This lowest of low con men. It could ruin everything.

"Mr. McPoyle! As your attorney, I would like to advise against making any future contact with Mr. Reynolds."

"That's enough advice from the help!" Liam brusquely dismissed the lawyer, much to his dismay, disappearing into his newly acquired office.

Within a matter of minutes, Frank was fixed up by Ryan and Margaret Mcpoyle to an extent that the short hairy man had never expected. The two had changed his soiled Depends, wiped him down from top to bottom with baby wipes, dressed his wounds, even applied baby powder, and a special cologne which made him smell of fresh milk. Frank had to admit, it was a lot more pleasant than anything he expected, considering who he was dealing with. It was a bit of a shock, seeing these two inbred savages work with such proficiency. He was beginning to suspect some trickery, particularly on the part of the younger sister, Margaret Mcpoyle, who seemed much keener of mind than she ever let on. Every time, he attempted to read the strange, wiry girl, she would notice him looking, and lick her lips, only to be reprimanded by her older brother, Ryan.

"No Margaret! This one's too old for you. It's gross." Ryan would scold. The girl would give her brother what appeared to be the McPoyle equivalent of puppy dog eyes; soulless, glassy, but clearly attempting for a sad and manipulative look. This lasted for about five seconds, which felt like an hour. Then she licked her lips again, like a lizard, apparently to the extreme arousal of her older brother, who pulled her in, to join lips with her, and exchange a passionate, milky kiss.

Frank watched in disgust and bewilderment, but he couldn't voice his discomfort and blow any shot he had at doing business. These were, after all, part of the new management. He had to blend in. Not that it would be a problem. They even provided him with a spare set of clothes in his size, in the style that the McPoyles preferred as a family. Vintage, it looked and felt like a left-over bit of wardrobe from the filming of one of the Texas Chainsaw Massacre movies. Regardless, he was fixed up. He felt fresh, even a little bit pampered by these bizarre creatures. He could only imagine what their ultimate design was. At the moment, he did not care about that. All that mattered to him was getting some semblance of his old life back.

He made his way to the office in what used to be Paddy's back room, followed closely by Ryan and Margaret. Sitting dead center of the room, in what used, to be Frank's revolving chair, sat Liam McPoyle. The defacto leader of this generation of McPoyles. His shaggy, sandy blond hair swept over the top of his forehead, framing his lightly stubbled, oval face. The flesh colored eye patch, with a drawn-on eye that had become Liam's signature, sat on his right eye. This was always off-putting to Frank, and he did all that he could, not to stare at this feature. His best attempts were mostly worthless and resulted in him staring more obviously. Liam noticed but decided to ignore.

"Now then, Mr. Reynolds, what can we do for each other?" Liam stated, in his usual, dismissive fashion.  
"Look, I ain't asking for much here. I just want my old job back. Ok? I'll help you run the bar. You don't have to do much, and you get all of my experience and business know how." Frank stated.  
"We McPoyles are perfectly capable of running a business, Franklin. We already own a chain of our own drive-through dairies across Philly for example, and we've cornered the local video rental market."

"You mean that dying field? Terrible business sense! You need a pro!" Frank piped in. Liam looked bored and annoyed at this point. His McPoyle entourage was beginning to eye Frank aggressively.  
"Let's cut to the chase here, Franklin, so as not to waste either of our time. What do you have that I want?"  
"Other than the fact that I've run numerous multimillion dollar companies successfully over the course of my life? What the hell could you be interested in?"  
"I want your children, Frank! Sell me Dennis and Deandra!" Liam finally shouted, in his signature, insane style. Frank gave Liam a puzzled look.

"You want me to sell you my kids?" Frank said baffled. Liam flashed a strange, sinister smile, reflected by his two siblings, who were currently standing behind him.

"It's a very common practice in my family. In fact, I have hundreds of contracts already written up for such occasions. It's much more common than you think, Franklin." Liam smirked twistedly. He handed over a strange contract from across the table, which Frank began to look over. The document looked slightly yellow and appeared to have been written on an old typewriter, years before. At the bottom, he noticed that it was dated to 2007. It looked like the family had been sitting on this idea for a while now.

"Alright! Deal! You want Dee and Dennis, you can have 'em! Bang 'em! Make 'em bang each other! I don't give a shit. They're not even my kids!"  
"And Charles too! His name's in the contract!" Liam insisted. Frank shook his head.  
"Naw! You can't have Charlie…"

"Then the deal's off!" Liam shouted in a shrill voice. "This contract was written more than ten years ago. I'm not getting the Deandra and Dennis of back then! At this point, most of their best years are behind them! You have nothing to negotiate!" He continued to rant. Frank waved his hands in front of him, attempting to make peace.

"Alright, alright! You can have Charlie too! Jesus Christ!" Frank gave the contract one last look, and then signed his name and date at the bottom.

"Then we have a deal. Bump it." Liam Mcpoyle extended his fist. Frank shook his head, but reluctantly fist bumped the grotesque man.

"Welcome on board, Franklin. Your first job as general manager of McPoyle's Milk Bar… Bring me your children!" A thunderclap rang dramatically from outside as if cued by the very nature of this unholy alliance. Frank shuddered a bit, but now was not the time for regrets. He had managed to salvage his livelihood just by the skin of his teeth, and even then, only thanks to a bizarre and probably perverted fascination that this freakshow had with his kids. It made literally no sense to Frank, but he wasn't about to argue, or rescind. He had laid his last good hand on the table, and he refused to squander this opportunity. He would need help though.

"Alright. I'll get you, Dennis and Dee…"  
"And Charles!"

"And Charlie. I'll get him too. But I'm not gonna' be able to do this on my own. I'll need help." Frank insisted. "Lemme' go over to the bridge on Fifth and Cedar. I gotta' meet a guy."

"Are you referring to Matthew? Because he works for me now." Liam stated without emotion.

"You got Cricket working for ya?"

"I am a river to my people, Franklin. Matthew should be down in the basement."


	2. The Gang Gets Trafficked

There they were again. Dennis, Dee, Mac, and Charlie. Out in the world, just like after the Reynolds' college days ended, only this time without the money from the Reynolds' trust fund to keep them feeling safe. No Paddy's. No merch. No fame or fortune. Here they were, almost twenty years later, and with nothing to show for it. Each of them held in tears, if for no other reason than to not let the others see them cry. This was not their day. Frank would save them though, right? Come to think of it, where was Frank? None of them had seen him leave Paddy's pub. And granted, they all scattered when he got himself tackled by that cop.

"Am I a bad person for abandoning my own dad when he got sprayed with mace?" Dee asked.

"Of course not, Dee. We all did it. Also, Frank totally did that to himself. It's not wrong to let the man deal with the consequences of his own stupidity." Dennis reassured his sister. Charlie wasn't convinced by any of this.

"Goddamn it, you guys! We need Frank! How are we gonna survive? Tell me, just how are we gonna survive without Frank and his money?" Charlie shrieked. "Things have really been thrown out of balance here in Philly! You guys gotta' admit it! McPoyles are taking over the city! We almost lost Dennis to Minnesota or North Dakota. Wherever. Cherry soda. We lost Frank…

"Goddamnit, calm down Charlie!" Dee shouted. "I hate it when you get like this!"

"Well, what are we gonna do, Dee? Hmm? Tell me, what the fuck are we gonna do?"

"Charlie, chill out! We'll think of something." Mac reassured his friend. "It'll be just like before Frank. Remember the time before Frank?"

"I vaguely recall having cancer…" Charlie started to say.

"You did not have cancer, you asshole. You were scamming us!" Dennis protested.

Charlie smiled "Oh yeah! That was a good one!"

"Come on, Charlie. We'll figure something out, and this time we'll be set for life."

"You're not talking about that bank robbing fantasy again, are you? We can't rob a bank, Dee!" Charlie argued.

"No! Goddamnit, Charlie. I was just trying to be encouraging!" She had been talking about robbing a bank, but she didn't have to admit it.

"Actually, I'm going to agree with the bird on this one, Charlie. We're always getting into serious shit, and we're always scamming ourselves out of it. I think that God must love us." Mac attempted optimism.

"Will all of you shut the fuck up? Something important is happening right now, and you're all missing it! All of you! We had to lose what we had. Don't you get it? It was holding us back! Paddy's was holding us back! Now that we've been freed from its cursed clutches, we can finally achieve the greatness we were meant for!" Dennis insisted. He was trying to convince himself as much as the rest of them, but he wouldn't let on.

Charlie stared, at a complete loss for anything to /"Alright, that's it! Dennis lost his shit! Who's up for finding some crack with me?" Dee interrupted.

"Is that who you want to be again, Deandra? A crackhead street urchin with no future? Or are you ready, Dee, to finally take the initiative and live up to your true potential. Standing by the side of the Golden God. You, a Golden Goddess in your own right! Finally, and deliciously achieving all that you have deserved over the course of your sad, pathetic life. Leaving all that desperation and failure behind. Becoming something more beautiful and rare than any talent half your age could ever dream to be." He could see an inspired tear forming in the corner of his sister's eye. So precious and rare were the moments that he managed to achieve such a feat.

"And you. Mac. Charlie. My two best friends in the whole world. My brothers! The only two people I would trust to the ends of the Earth. Ours is a friendship for the ages. The friendship between all four of us. You can't buy what we've got. There's no formula you can follow. We are a force of nature. Horrible and awesome! A chaotic juggernaut which is tethered no more. Now is the gang's finest hour! Can you feel it?" Dennis monologued while gesticulating wildly. By this point, Charlie, Mac, and Dee were fully invested. All clamoring to show how strongly they believed it. This feeling was incredible.

"I love you, Dennis!" Mac exclaimed.

"I know," Dennis answered with cool indifference, wounding his best friend's heart as he had so many times before. "Come on. Let's do this! Gang! Gang! Gang!" Dennis chanted. The other three put their hands in a /"Gang! Gang! Gang! Gang! Gang!"  
Mac, Dee, and Charlie joined in unison until a loud bang was heard from just ahead. The four best friends turned, to find their former leader and scheme funder, Frank, pointing his revolver at them. He was accompanied by Matthew Mara, as well as Ryan and Margaret McPoyle. Matthew carried a handheld, Luger-style pistol. The two McPoyles proudly sported assault shotguns.

"Oh haven't you heard, bitches? There's a new gang in town! And Frank Reynolds is still the guy in charge!"br /"My brother's in charge, Frank! You're just his puppet!" Ryan droned. Frank looked cross at

"Shut the fuck up, unibrow! I'm the boss of this hunting party, ain't I? This is terrible group dynamics, Ryan. We're really gonna have to work on this."

"Whatever, bitch!" Ryan groaned. Frank narrowed his eyes.

"Goddamn it! Stop talking back! You're making me look like an asshole!"

"Frank, what the fuck is going on here?" Dennis

"Yeah, Frank!"

"Frank, Goddamnit!"

"What the fuck, Frank!"  
The usual throng of bratty complaints from this group. They'd never grow up"I don't owe you shit for explanations."

"Is this about us riding your ass for being incontinent?" Dee asked.

"I ain't incontinent, bitch! Even with a bunch o' guns pointed at ya', you're still sassin' me!" Frank fumed.

"Frank, dude. It's okay. I've known for a while now, and nobody's judging you. I'm fine buying you Depends, Frank, and the rest of the gang doesn't care. We love you, Frank. Right guys?" Charlie said, trying to talk Frank down.

"Look, Charlie, I know what you're trying to do, and it ain't gonna work! Alright? This is just business, see? Liam and I had a deal."

"A deal? You agreed to kill us, Frank?" Dee shrieked. Frank narrowed his eyes and shook his head.

"Goddamn it! This is going nowhere! Cricket?"

"What's up, Franky?" the haggard blonde to Frank's right responded, keeping his pistol trained on Dee's head.

"Get the collars on 'em, now! You can start with the girl if ya' like." Frank glared. With that, Cricket opened a canvas messenger bag that he had hanging on his side. He pulled out what appeared to be a silencing dog collar from the bag. Flashing a bloodthirsty grin, showing off the few teeth he had left, he approached his target.

"Oh yes, Frank. Cricket likey! Cricket likey very much!" he roughly pulled the collar tight around Deandra's slender neck, savoring every gasp, every choking sound and unspoken wince of pain that arose from his victim. He stood for a moment, just to admire his handiwork. Then he pulled out a small remote control to test it out. He switched a dial. Dee screamed and grabbed at her neck.

"Ow! Cricket, goddamn it!"br /"My name's not Cricket anymore, bitch! It's Matthew! I'm Matthew Mara, and you're going to say my name, Deandra Reynolds! You fucking whore!" the disfigured man was beside himself, practically drooling. Frank caught glimpse of the two McPoyles, who were now utterly enthralled with this creepy spectacle. Passing lustful glances between one another, then towards Matthew and Deandra, and they reveled in exquisite torture. Frank's stomach turned, ever so slightly at the thought of all of this.

"Shut up, Cricket! Get the other collars on, now, bitch! Before they try somethin' funny."

"Right boss!" Cricket leaped to action, securing a collar first around that sniveling little buffoon of a janitor's neck, making sure to dig the metal prods into his larynx, making him gasp for air.

"Dude, Cricket! What the hell, man?" Charlie wondered what he'd ever done to lead Matthew to treat him this way. But Matthew knew. He remembered all the tortures that these monsters had put him through. Every second of this was warranted. Wasting no time, Matthew moved on to Dennis who was standing perfectly still and poised. Stoic, with no expression. Trying to play it cool to the very end. We'll just see how cool you are after I get you rigged up, the homeless gentlemen thought.

"Like he did with the others, he made sure to cause as much pain as he could in the process while leaving no lasting damage. He cinched the scrap on just as he had for his twin sister. Just barely giving him room to breathe so that he would not pass out along the way. Dennis made no obvious indication of his discomfort, this entire time. If not for the delicious squeals of pain and submission that he had received from Deandra only moments ago, Dennis's defiant lack of reaction would have made him positively livid. But he had done his job. Dennis could try to put on a cool face in front of his low-life posse, it made no difference.

"Soon, they'd all be begging for his mercy. Especially… all of them. But especially Dee. Cricket returned to Frank's side, gun in one hand, remote in the other. Charlie and the Reynolds twins looked curiously to Mac, who they noticed hadn't been fitted with a collar. Just what the hell was going on here.

"Wait, you're just taking them? You and I are cool?" Mac asked, gesturing with his hands towards Frank. The other members of the gang, all fitted with collars looked at Mac. They began to argue but were quickly silenced by a twist of a knob on Cricket's remote. They all grabbed for their necks, desperation in their eyes. Even Dennis. Oh, there was that moment Cricket was waiting for. He relished this moment. It was so deeply fulfilling.

"Naw Mac. You're free to go. They didn't want you."

"Didn't want me? Are you serious?" Mac said incredulously, sliding his hand in front of himself to highlight his marvelous physique. Frank shook his head to Mac's surprised disappointment.

"No. Your name wasn't in the contract Mac. You're good. Actually, wanna come work for me? I bought an extra gun!" Frank smiled slyly. Mac took a second to pause, and looked over his three friends, panting, bloodshot eyes pleading for his help.

"He grabbed Dennis in a firm embrace, feeling his soft, well-groomed hair brush past his cheek as his head darted to his best friend's shoulder. He pulled back, looked Dennis in the eyes squarely, and backed up in the direction of Frank and his thugs.

"Sorry, bro!" Mac said, raising his hands.

"Unbelievable!" Dennis glowered.

"Oh, you have gotta' be kidding me!" Dee shouted.

"You have no honor or loyalty, Mac! You piece of shit!" Charlie ranted. Mac shrugged.

"Hey, guys. There's two sides here. One of them is armed to the teeth, has a bar, and a future. The other one's wearing dog collars and pissing their pants from electrocution. I actually have a choice here. What side would you take?"

"A choice? You could choose not to join the people who are holding your friends hostage, you goddamned son of a bitch! You could do that!" Dennis berated Mac. Mac put his hands out to his sides, lightly shrugging again, as Frank slid a pistol into one of his open hands. He pointed the gun at his friends.

"Yeah, sorry bro. My hands are tied." Mac smirked. Frank patted the young man on his broad shoulder, hoping he wouldn't interpret this the wrong way. Frank didn't have anything against gays, it wasn't that. He just didn't want Mac using him to deal with his weird daddy issues like he sometimes did.

"It's nice to have the Gang back together!" Frank sneered, "Come on! Let's get these losers back to the bar!" Frank ordered his crew. Mac, Matthew, and the McPoyles all took position behind Dennis, Dee, and Charlie. Dee screamed again and grabbed her neck.

"Ah! Cricket, you goddamned street rat! Ahh! Fuck!" she grabbed her neck again. Her eyes burning with pain and resentment.

"It's Matthew, bitch! You're gonna' say my name if nothing else!"

"Ahhh! Fuck you, Cricket!" She screeched and wailed.

"Oh Dee, sweet mama, this has been a long time coming! And I am going to give you everything you deserve!" Matthew foamed psychotically. How he had longed to say those words in the past under different context. Back when he still loved her. When he still believed in her. But he realized just how unworthy of such a scenario she was. And this feeling that he had now, it was incredible. He knew he was ruined, disfigured. A wreck of his former self. A disgrace to everything he once stood for as a man of the cloth. But right now, he felt like the most powerful man in the world. He noticed Margaret staring at him, captivated by his behavior. She licked her lips at him. Creepy. But it was kind of working for him. He winked at her with his bad eye. Everything felt right in his world for once. This was the dawning of the age of the Cricket!


	3. The Gang Goes to Prison

It had been a long walk back to the Pub. Dennis, Dee, and Charlie all had burn marks etched across their throats from repeated shocks by their captor, Matthew Mara. Dee's neck was predictably the worst. She was having a hard time walking at this point, being partially supported by her twin brother and by Charlie, just to keep her balance at this point.

To her credit, Dee had managed to withhold from referring to Matthew by his real name for the entire walk, referring to him only as "Cricket", and various swear words. He may have had the upper hand for once, but she refused to concede anything, even if it spared her from pain. This was the proud, noble Deandra Reynolds that he had fallen in love with as a child. The unyielding behavior that drove him to degrade himself so many times before. But it didn't make a difference now. It was nothing but idiotic stubbornness, and she knew it. That's what he told himself. Sure, let her act tough! It would only lead her to more punishment. Matthew Mara was done showing mercy to her!

The three hostages entered the bar, followed closely by their captors. They attempted to take seats in the bar, but Matthew cranked the dial on his remote, causing them all to jump, and grab their necks. They eyed a large, somewhat familiar figure standing in front of the office's closed door, acting as a burly bouncer. He scowled at the captives as they looked towards the office, and then looked right past them, at the bar's employees.

"The boss doesn't have time to take audience with the riffraff! Lock 'em in the cellar for the night! Have 'em organize things down there, and tie 'em up after!" the large man shouted.

"Hey, I already got that mostly taken care of, I think…" Matthew began to relate, before being harshly cut off by the large man's fevered howl.

"Well then you should mess things up again for them, so they have something to do!"

The towering man's voice rang in all their ears.

"Doyle?" Dennis asked, recalling the largest and most ferocious of the McPoyle clan as the man who they had robbed of a professional football career so many years back. But that was Frank's fault. If anything, he should be mad at Frank.

"You haven't earned the right to say my name, slave! Make sure that one trips down the stairs, will you?" he barked at Matthew. "Oh. And make them wear these!" Doyle tossed some raggedy clothes which Matthew caught and ducked under the arm that wasn't holding a pistol.

"Yeah, alright chief! I think I can handle that!" Matthew said with a chuckle, as he jammed his pistol in Dennis's back hard, causing him to jump. So gratifying!

Into the basement, they all went. Matthew made sure to trip Dennis, the last to enter the stairway. Dennis rolled down the stairs, taking Charlie's knees out, and Charlie hurtled forward and took Dee down with him. The three hostages loudly slammed down the stairs, bumping various body parts in the commotion. Dee just barely threw her hands out at the bottom, protecting her nose from fracturing on the concrete, but badly jamming her wrists in the process. Charlie had a bit less luck, thwacking his skull on the last step, feeling that familiar, almost enjoyable but undeniably painful flash and dizziness which accompanied a concussion. He was now having trouble hearing the others. Great! Dennis, being the last one down the stairs, received the most cushion on his fall, but he could still feel a series scrapes and bruises on the right side of his body as he tried to adjust to his feet. Matthew and the two McPoyles stood at the top of the stairs, pointing their weapons and smiling cruelly. Dee took a glance at the shotguns that Margaret and Ryan were wielding and had a sudden flash of memory to the last time she had been held prisoner by these gross psychos.

"Wait! You dickbags aren't holding us up with fake guns again, are you?"

Ryan aimed his shotgun and fired at a shelf of Brandy and Vodka. The bottles exploded, showering glass shrapnel across the room. Margaret, excited by her brother's action, followed suit. She destroyed a large jar of pickles, allowing the juice and glass to spray upon the three captives. This was not a trial run. There was no prank. They still had no idea what they were doing here, or what Frank meant when he mentioned a contract. Matthew came down the stairs, stepping on top of each of his prisoners as he moved through. He began to tear the room apart, knocking everything that wasn't made of glass on the floor. Charlie tried to reason with his former acquaintance.

"Cricket, dude. You don't have to… Ah! Oh, fuck!" Charlie suddenly grabbed at a blistering pain in his neck, realizing immediately that Matthew couldn't be reasoned with.

"Stop calling me Cricket, bitch! And all of you cunts, strip down to yer' underwear!" Matthew shouted, aiming his gun at them. Each of the began to strip layers of clothes off rapidly, as Matthew urged them, repeating "C'mon! C'mon! C'mon!"

"Make 'em get naked! You've got a fuckin' gun!" Ryan smiled while being held in a passionate embrace by his sister, Margaret.

"Alright. Like the way, you guys think up there. How bout you just keep going?"

"Oh god, are you serious? Ahhh! Ok, fuck!" Deandra wasted no more time, removing her undergarments. Dennis removed his underwear as well. Charlie, refused to remove his filthy, worn out underwear, instead clenching his legs together tightly.

"C'mon, Charlie boy! Pop off those tighty whiteys!" Matthew pointed the gun at Charlie's head, finally forcing him to comply with the request, revealing an extremely humiliated Charlie Kelley. Dee blushed a bit, hoping that her brother wouldn't notice the fact that this aroused her. He had noticed. Matthew enjoyed a good laugh at his enemy's expense. He then tossed the ragged garments on the ground and pointed his gun at them.

"Now put these new clothes on, which your captors were so gracious as to provide you. You will wear them, bitches… but in a couple seconds. I kinda' wanna look at Dee naked for a while longer!" Matthew smiled.

Dee narrowed her eyes at the skeezy little pervert standing before her. She knew that she had caused endless pain in this man's life. She realized that she was at least partly responsible for bringing him to this wretched state and that it was all wrong. That she was wrong. But nothing could excuse the way he was treating her right now. And she would not be forgiving when the tables inevitably turned.

"Now suit up! I've ogled you long enough!" Matthew demanded.

The three unfolded the ragged garments before them. The fabric was scratchy and loose. All shades of beige and gray. The tunics were ill-fitting, with bits of twine laced in to allow for some adjustment on the placement of the neckline. The trousers were loose and a bit billowy, though Charlie had managed to unfold the one skirts among the garments.

"Dude! Why do I have to be the one who wears a skirt, dude?" Charlie complained. Matthew laughed.

"Hey man, you're the one who picked it out. Don't blame me." Matthew mocked. Dee rolled her eyes, and turned to Charlie, handing him the pair of trousers she was holding, and taking the skirt from him, with a 'Gimme that!' for emphasis. She slid the skirt on, up her long slender legs, and tied a knot when it reached her waist. Charlie slid on the cream-colored trousers, a tied his waist as well. The three now looked like prisoners from a long-forgotten time. Probably the dark ages. They wondered what the point of this all was, but they weren't allowed to explore these thoughts for very long, as Matthew snatched up their original clothes, hurled them up the stairs to Ryan and Margaret, and then pointed his gun again.

"Alright, you cocksucking bottom feeders! It's time to get to work!" Matthew blustered. "Make it look the way it did before I knocked everything over! Otherwise, you're not eating tonight! I'll be back down to check in three hours, and if it's not finished, I'm shocking the shit out of you, and spraying you in the eyes with bug spray!"

"Are you fucking serious, Cricket!" Dee exclaimed. Matthew pivoted behind him to grab a can of Black Flag, tear off the cap, and blast Dee directly in the face, causing her to cough, scream, and convulse all at once. The pungent, viscous toxic spray burned her eyes furiously, and she gagged hard, only barely able to breathe. Ryan laughed from atop the stairs. She could hear him. The ghoul bastard! Charlie immediately shielded his eyes as Matthew walked passed him, hoping dearly that he wouldn't decide to spray him too.

"Alright, you've got your assignment. Somewhere in this room, there's a list of instructions describing how Liam wants things done down here. Find it, and fucking do it! Oh! And don't eat or drink ANYTHING! You hear me? If I come down here and find that any of you fuckwits has eaten or drunk anything, I'm punishing all of you. You got it?" Charlie and Dennis stared at Matthew, petrified by what he might do next. Dee would have followed suit if she could see, but she was still working to recover her vision. Matthew was starting to feel impatient with his captives. "You fucking GOT IT?" he reiterated.

"Yes Cricket!" the three said, almost in unison. A dry smirk curled along Matthew's dry, pallid lips. He reached into his pocket one more time, twisting the knob, sending a high voltage snap across the surface of their already damaged skin.

"It's Matthew to you, bitches!" he insisted, following his coworkers into the bar, and slamming the door shut. They heard the key turn on the basement door, then slide from the lock. After that, only silence followed. Nothing explained, no questions answered. Just the darkness of the basement, the wet, cluttered floor, and the three of them.


End file.
